"Feels so good inside myself, don't 'wanna move..." Sly Stone: "Luv n' Haight," 1971
This, the first line of There's A Riot Goin'
On, in many ways sums up the battle raging inside the head of Sly
Stone in 1971. By this time, his steady retreat inward was becoming
increasingly apparent to those around him, as his dealings with the
outside world became marked by disinterested cynicism. The same man who
had given inspiration to so many with the positive message of his hit
singles ("Stand," "Everyday People," "I Want To
Take You Higher") seemed to be methodically destroying the
reputation he had worked so hard to build. The concerts that were once
like a funkified electric church would start
hours late, if at all, inspiring vilification and even violence in his
steadily shrinking audience. After two long years between albums, Sly was
back--but with a whole new kind of soul.
Riot still sounds
remarkably different from all other music even 27 years later (ironically
in spite of the fact that the record has had such broad influence), so it
should be easy to imagine the confusion it inspired upon its release. The
charted singles, "Family Affair" and "Runnin'
Away," were only moderately representative of the intense density
and stark darkness that lurked in the record's grooves. Certainly
indicative of the dark struggle inside Sly, the album also hinted at the
dissolution of the band that had spent the five previous years drawing up
the blueprint for modern funk and soul music.
Although it certainly was not a necessity, the breakup
of the original Family Stone was mother to much of Riot's
invention. Sly was not the only one who had become drug addled and
disillusioned--band members were frequently absent from recording
sessions, leaving Sly alone with virtually unlimited studio time on his
hands. The band's drummer, Greg Errico, was
steadily phasing himself out of the band (he would be effectively gone by
the time the album was released), and in his stead Sly employed the
unconventional (and possibly enirely original) technique
of mixing live drums with what was at the time a primitive drum machine. Errico himself plays on only a few cuts, the
remaining live parts were played by Sly himself. Reputedly, much of the
album's musical content was provided by the multi-intstrumentalist
band leader.
The muddy, lurching recording style heard on Riot
was the result of incessant overdubs, some of which were the result of Sly's search for a new form of expression, orthers are the work of random and uncredited visitors to the studio who were
"auditioned" on the master tape. Despite, or perhaps because
of, all of these seemingly disastrous elements, Riot is a
masterpiece. It had long been Sly's gift to
bring disparate factions together into a cohesive and funky whole--on Riot
the elements were just a bit darker in nature.
The introspective, yet political lyrics, the hard and
dirty funk grooves, the inspirational, yet depressing songs--all of these
elements would come to influence not only peers like Marvin Gaye and James Brown,
but two generations of rappers and funkateers
who paid homage to Sly's vision by making his
samples and beats an essential backbone of their own innovations. Sly's riot is still goin'
on.
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